


acidum persica

by breadcat



Series: Sindria AU [3]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadcat/pseuds/breadcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, if those glowing red eyes could speak, their words would fill volumes of scrolls in an effort to describe everything, every little ounce of pain and anger that very closely masked the copious relief. The look alone seized his heart in a grip far more tight and cold than any ice the magi could produce. The rushing pulse of its beat vibrated in his ears, but Sinbad felt that his heart had completely stopped until Judal finally uttered his response.</p><p>"Yes. I would."</p><p>Not dead! Second and third chapter coming soon! C:</p>
            </blockquote>





	acidum persica

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! Here we go, the whole thing behind why I wrote Detox and Pull. It's still WIP, as of now I don't even have the second chapter finished. And while it's posted as part 3 in the series it's technically part 1 since the others are just drabbles that will take place somewhere along this time frame.
> 
> Picked apart and edited by Pudgy ( http://pudgybat.tumblr.com/ ), and they're basically my co-author. Also this series will have certain scenes drawn out by me sooner or later so look forward to that!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Did you have fun today?"

The words brushed over him, carried on the light ocean breeze that swept all around. It brought with it the smell of the sea and the city, heavy with salt and charcoal from the open grills. It was a stark difference from the aroma of the cherry trees and clove oil from Kou that he was so accustomed to. It was relaxing. And while the weather in Kou was rather humid during this time of the year, the heat in Sindria was tame by comparison. The sun from which the heat radiated was slowly starting to sink behind the waves of the open water. What was left of the light cast a glow of red and orange hues on his skin, colors that reminded him of fire, fire that raged in the hearths and bonfires that were warm and inviting; not the taunting little wisps that flickered in lamps and candles in the dark of night, which he had learned not to touch in the time he could barely walk.

“Yeah.” He replied in sincere honesty, though his eyes shied out to sea. He didn’t have to look to see that the king beside him smiled. He could sense it in his presence, in the air around them.

“I’m glad.” Sinbad sighed contently, the smooth sound of his voice laid heavy on the wind.

Judal splayed his hands across the carved stone of the balcony railing, which still kept its remaining warmth from the heat of the day under his palms. Its surface felt more like home than the polished wood and rice paper of his room far across the sea. He was cloaked in warmth, and he suspected that his skin by this point had gained a little color; with a blush of pink on his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his shoulders, and his back from his exposure to the sun. It stung a bit, and he contemplated in asking, or rather demanding, for Sinbad to rub aloe on him for its soothing relief, though a part of him was reluctant to ruining the moment. Not that Sinbad would turn him down his request if asked, in fact, the king would’ve liked to have any opportunity to place a hand on him… at least that’s what it seemed like. His touch wasn’t always something that made him collapse into a ball of jittery nerves, but sometimes just the heat of his skin felt nice and comforting. The best kind of contact was rare, the kind where he had been encased in Sinbad’s strong arms in a peaceful embrace.

The magi sat there, and it was the longest that Sinbad has ever seen him so reposed since they met. Judal would usually talk all day; commenting, questioning, as actively as the child he really was deep down. He was curious, and Sinbad encouraged it by letting him explore. He allowed him to act as he wanted, within reason of course, and to do as he pleased at the docks and in the streets. Today was a rather good day, as the king would normally be running around after Judal and reprimanding him for some of the troublesome deeds that he deemed reprehensible. It was gratifying to see that the kid was actually listening for once; it was almost as if there was a completely different person standing before him. 

It deeply warmed Sinbad to watch Judal’s interaction with the city’s children. He would have never expected such a jaded, war-bent young man to ever kneel down to retrieve a doll for a little girl being piggy-backed by her father halfway down the street only a few moments after she’d dropped it. It was moments such as these that seemed so surreal that many times he would have to pinch his arm just to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. It if ever were to be a dream, it was one that his heart controlled rather than his mind. At the end of the day, he would write it off as being simply shocked and awestruck in seeing another part of Judal, though it wasn’t to say that he hadn’t seen him calm or playful or anything but violent before. It was something that he hadn’t seen for a while, and since he had visited the Kou Empire due to the commotion in Balbadd, the oracle hadn’t so much as breathed in his general direction. It was a relief.

The only instance of bad fortune that Sinbad could really consider worth mentioning was the instant he felt the blood in his veins turn cold upon witnessing one of the smaller children grabbing a handful of Judal’s hair and giving it a good yank. He swore for the briefest moment that the strange and peaceful Judal would snap and revert to his murderous nature. He imagined that Judal thought of it, until the child’s mother bent down and carefully coaxed her child to release the deep black strands from the tiny hand. She apologized profusely as the magi stood there, clearly livid, with hands shaking and eyes a little too bright. Then, as if nothing ever happened, Judal turned and strode away while indulging in the fruit that the mother had given as a peace offering.

This was a cause for deep concern for Sinbad from his understanding of how Judal felt about anyone touching his hair without his permission due to painful past experiences. It wouldn’t have turned out well had one of his citizens been pierced with spears of ice, all for the unintentional harm from a child that knew no better.

After the incident, they sat at the edge of the docks. Sinbad braided the bit of stray hair back into place, even though Judal was perfectly capable of fixing it himself with magic. But he had complained that he was tired from all the walking they’d done during the day, even as he sat with his legs swinging over the ledge of the pier as the sea sprayed its glittering drops of water off of his pants. They had kissed briefly, and Judal was visibly surprised to taste the sweetness of watermelon from his snack.

“I don’t understand how you can all just… do this. Every day.” Sinbad’s wandering mind reeled back into the moment, and the spell seemed to have broken. Judal sounded irritated, a tone far too familiar.

Sinbad sighed again, but it was a far cry from relief. He should have known to stay on his toes, yet here he was, relaxing and getting too comfortable with the thought of the younger male standing beside him as calmly as he had been all day. Between the confused yet guarded glances between his generals and the wary looks from the citizens at first―Sinbad pinched the bridge of his nose for a very brief moment before he turned to look at Judal.

"Do what?"

“This.” Judal threw a hand out over the balcony, sweeping his arm across and motioning to all the visible parts of the city. “There’s nothing happening. There’s no crime, not even bar fights. How do you live like this?”

“Not everything has to be relevant to violence, Judal.” Sinbad replied. He didn’t want to correct him on the bar fight issue. There were always fights, just not during midday when everyone that had been involved would be home sleeping off their aching bruises and hangovers. He’d let Judal believe that there was not a single ounce of violence here, even if it was only brought on by the overdrinking of wine or someone being a little too overzealous about the festival. Even so, situations such as that paled in comparison to the ruin Judal could bring about. All things considering, Sinbad could easily count his blessings. 

“You keep saying that, yet that’s the only thing that makes any sense to me.”

Sinbad fought the urge to grind his head into the railing with every fiber of his being. This conversation was an old one, probably one of the most common and most exhausting, and it usually ended with the magi getting mad and storming off. And as much of a pain the boy was, Sinbad preferred his company when he was in a good mood. A bad mood? Not so much.

"You're the only one here that likes to fight. I think you need a vacation."

Judal gave a loud snort and rolled his eyes, hefting his weight forward so fast that Sinbad thought he was going to roll right over the railing and fly off somewhere, but instead, he curled down, his hands leaving the railing to brace his jaw. No matter what came out of his mouth, his eyes kept their fixed gaze forward, trailing any moving object he could see from their high perch.

"I don't need a vacation. I hardly do anything as of late. It's so boring."

“Are you bored now?” Sinbad kept watching him, watching his posture, watching his eyes move. But what he really watched was the light dancing across his skin and jewelry as it moved and darkened with the sinking sun.

Judal gave pause before answering, then shrugged. “I guess not. It’d be nice if I could bother Freckles though.”

"Not this time. After the last time I think he deserves a vacation as well."

“That was funny though~” He mused with a light smirk.

"Only to you."

The playful smile that played on the boy’s lips disappeared just as quickly as it had shown.

They lapsed into a deafening silence until a sliver of the sun’s remaining light clung to the brink of the horizon. The sky was painted in blues and purples, and the stars revealed themselves across the night sky. Judal’s gaze moved upwards, away from the city, away from the ocean, to the sky to see those blinking lights.

"Judal."

"Mn?"

"When do you plan to leave?"

He scoffed. “Tired of me already, are you?” There was an edge to his voice that Sinbad had learned to be wise to pay attention to. He had gone from calm to treading on thin ice in less than a second. At least this time it was more than a few syllables.

“No, no. Not in the least.” He raised a hand as a placating gesture. “I was just wondering…” His voice trailed off.

"Wondering what, stupid king?"

That nickname honestly had grown on him over the time they had known each other, and never once has it actually bothered him. It was just Judal's way to poke fun, and that was fine. No harm done there.

"Would you ever like to sleep under these stars, here, permanently?"

In that moment, it felt as if time has stood at rest. The breeze dwindled to a standstill, and he didn’t have to look to sense Judal’s tension as the silence passed between them. But this was different. It was usually the magi who tried to convince Sinbad to let him choose him as his king, and so on and so forth. But Sinbad had never offered his hand out to him in return, at least not in a way that was done overnight.

He wasn’t expecting Judal to give a response. Hell, if anything he would probably laugh at him or get upset and retort with something like ‘Oh, so now you want me here?’. It took him a moment, but he slowly, gradually, managed to convince himself to look down from the stars to Judal. And what he saw wasn’t exactly what he expected.

Judal was tense, so tense that it was easy to see, even in the dark light, the twitch of his muscles and the clench of his jaw. It was the same look he would have shortly before he sent someone crashing through a wall, and in that moment, Sinbad was afraid that he set off a spark for the fit of a century. But he kept his watchful eye on Judal, seeing his eyes close, and with all that black hair black clothing it was getting harder to see him as the night veiled its curtain over the world. He was just a dark figure by the time he moved, eclipsed by the shadow that the pillar nearby had cast.

The king held his breath as the magi moved, slowly and languid despite how tense he was. His movements were like a large cat, a sleek predator, cautious and calculating. He raised himself up from the railing, but his head remained turned down as if he was glancing over the city once more. The strain of the tense air crept higher and higher, at least for Sinbad, and it felt like an eternity before Judal turned his head and cracked his eyes open.

It was disturbingly eerie how the blood red color of his eyes stood out the most even in the consuming darkness, but this wasn’t the first time Sinbad had seen them glow. He realized that he was white-knuckling his grip on the railing, and there was a soreness to his fingers. He was ready for it, ready for whatever fit Judal would throw at him, as he often did.

Instead, he stood there, staring back at the king for what felt like another pass of eternity. The air became chill, but it wasn’t from Judal’s magic. The high tide kicked up and the ocean breeze washed away the tension. But as sudden as the wind was, not even its gentle song could distract the king from what happened next. He could see the wind’s soft generous gust, but he couldn’t feel it. To him, time remained at rest as his focus lingered on the magi’s face, trying to read his expression.

Oh, if those glowing red eyes could speak, their words would fill volumes of scrolls in an effort to describe everything, every little ounce of pain and anger that very closely masked the copious relief. The look alone seized his heart in a grip far more tight and cold than any ice the magi could produce. The rushing pulse of its beat vibrated in his ears, but Sinbad felt that his heart had completely stopped until Judal finally uttered his response.

"Yes. I would."


End file.
